Waking
by MillieBee
Summary: OLD WORK. She wakes in a dark place. She has been here once before. And he is watching her. Abstract oneshot.


**Author's Note:** This story is fague. It's a slightly abstract, vague one-shot, because those are just so much fun. Hopefully it's not _too_ vague, though.

Also, you can guess how the word 'nails' is supposed to be interpreted ;) .

* * *

The darkness was what interested her first.

When she opened her eyes, she was not met with the expected blue-grey morning light. She was met with a dull, heated mask of darkness.

Slowly, her vision wavered and cleared. She drew a breath of stale, hot air, and coughed on it.

The girl clenched and unclenched her fists, testing her nerves. The clumsiness of sleep was still dragging across her muscles, and she wanted nothing more than to lay down her head and dip back into her slumber.

But for some reason, every time she closed her eyes, they involuntarily flicked open again.

She spent some time warring with her own body, before ultimately submitting and letting herself rise into full consciousness. She tucked her elbows under her and lifted her shoulders up. Half-sitting-half-lying on the hard ground, she peered through the haze of shadows.

All she could see was metal. Metal walls and pipes and rails, stretching onward and outward for eternity. She had woken lying on a metal walkway, suspended some distance over the ground. Peeking through the grille, she guessed that she was at least two storeys up. Perhaps more.

Curious; because she had definitely not fallen asleep there.

She rose to her feet and began to walk.

She had no direction in mind. Only the driving instinct to move and keep moving through this strange place.

Steam hissed through a small gap in one of the pipes as the girl passed it, and she darted aside in sudden terror when she thought she had heard it whisper her name.

She remained unmoving for a time – not paralysed with fear, but forcing herself to keep control of her tumultuous impulses to run or scream or cry.

Because she knew very well how little those silly reactions would help her.

Drawing on reserves of self-control she rarely had to use, the girl cleared her throat and called into the darkness,

"I have been here before."

Another pipe seemed to burst briefly and a spray of steam crossed the floor a few feet from her legs.

"You remember me."

She spoke more quietly now. She was not sure what she would gain if he already knew her, but she felt more comfortable in imagining that he did.

And then she heard the footsteps.

He was moving at a leisurely pace – there was no need for him to hurry. She turned around and then looked over her shoulders, spinning in a full circle, trying in vain to identify his whereabouts. She wanted, again, to run; more than anything else. But what use would it be, to run straight into his open arms?

But standing frozen was utterly infuriating.

And so she began to walk instead. She hummed as she walked, keeping her mind away from the monster and the yearning to break into a sprint. A short tune, over and over. Something repetitive and childish and simple.

She slowed her pace, realising that his footfalls had been silenced.

And if he was quiet, he was probably listening for her.

She peered over the edge of the walkway, leaning on the railing for support. Casting her eyes over the dark, metallic landscape – and finding nothing – she began to worry.

She couldn't see him, and neither could she hear him.

But that did not mean he was gone.

Her fingers curled on the hand-railing, gripping it tightly.

He was never gone.

"True."

The voice was gravelled and monotone. At first it sounded from everywhere all at once, and then it was at her back; a sound that was close enough to touch.

With four clipped taps, he drummed each of his nails on the banister by her hand. Another hand, unseen, rested on her upper arm.

"You should have run." He said, and now his mouth was by her ear and she could feel his breath on her neck. It was cold.

"You would have caught me more easily." She replied, and her voice was softer than she had anticipated.

He lifted his left hand from the railing and drew his nails across her throat.

"More easily than this?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Hopefully it was okay. Please do review, I love hearing your opinions, whatever they are ^^ .


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